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Why does every Katrina Kaif movie have that almost identical item song? Why is this major star not breaking this mould and thereby getting slotted? Is there a method here that the rest of us haven’t understood?
One fine afternoon, afflicted by utter boredom, yours truly decided to be a fly on the wall of a Bollywoodian home. To be precise, it was the long-legged London lady, Katrina Kaif’s house.
I hereby reproduce the conversations that I have been privy to between the Diva herself and her quintessential tinsel town secretary.
“Madam, there is a new movie on the floors. Big production with a great budget. Shall I pitch in for you?” The secretary was unctuous.
“Gimme a Khan. Maybe then.” KK was firm.
“Khan do and Kumar will. A big B maybe. Two-foot tapping numbers too, madam. You will rule the disco parties this year end. Boom Boom, your stock will rise.”
“Hmmm. Got to have some meat in the role. Let me attempt a sedate act this time. I’m tired of staying off meat and carbs to avoid those midriff rolls.”
“Madam, who can beat your calisthenics style Zumba dance numbers, your gravity-defying rope swings, or those belly jiggles? You are inspirational madam! The effort you put in, to flaunt that toned torso, oozes out of every frame! You’ll make mincemeat of the rest. Suraiyya Jaan legi kya, is what your competition asks.”
“Filmfare nominations are around the corner. How about a substantial role with some unfathomable angst? I shall sport crisp cotton threads and look soulfully into the camera. A nomination, here and there, isn’t enough. A meaningful performance just might fetch me the black lady. Looks good on the CV too.”
“Madam, there are so many new heroines already who are scorching up the screen with their blazing performances. Why try acing alien fields? Let us stick to the tried and tested grounds. You are on a safe wicket here. All year long, your dance numbers will get people grooving. What else does one need as validation, when you are inundated with the hugs of Hindustan?”
“I get your point. Yes! Zindagi na milege Dobara! Even if I am doing Item Numbers, they should be pivotal to the storyline. The lyrics should carry a powerful message. I shouldn’t end up a Zero, though extra zeros on the cheque wouldn’t hurt!”
“That is the correct Rajneeti Madam! Baar baar dekhegi Audience! Let me quickly rush over to the production office to clinch the deal.”
“Ahh. Not so quick! This time I’m doing it differently. I should be the cynosure of the audiences’ eyes with other dancers relegated to the opulent background. Densely kohled eyes, wild and flowing tresses, flat midriff with barely there blouses. I will look dreamily into the camera, hinting some dark secrets while I mouth profound poetry. I will wear Indian with a western cut. So only one leg to be shown this time.” Katrina gleefully grinned rubbing her palms together. “Right in time before the awards season begins. I will be dancing at all of them, Jab tak hai jaan! This Chikni Chameli will surely Dhoom machayegi Dhoom!!”
‘Different my%^&! Profound Poetry! Since when is ‘Pavva chadhake’ a Plathian anthem? Manzoor-E-Khuda is our destiny.”
The muttering secretary set off on his mission of making Katrina ace the Race while just chilling Kool Kat munched on a juicy apple.
Anupama Jain is an accidental late entrant, to the enigmatic world of writing.
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